


Lemon Cakes

by empty_cup_and_a_chipped_heart



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: ADORABLE DORKS ROMANCING EACH OTHER, F/M, More Fluff, actually lemon fruits are the overarching metaphor for this story, and a lot of lemon cakes, it may have gotten out of hand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 06:36:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4381016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empty_cup_and_a_chipped_heart/pseuds/empty_cup_and_a_chipped_heart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa Stark returns south to face her fears</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lemon Cakes

**Author's Note:**

> Based of a prompt by wildhoneyfitri over on tumblr!  
> "I think I'm in love with you, and I'm terrified."

Sansa’s eating lemon cakes in the solar when she receives the summons. Tyrion Lannister, Hand to the Queen, Warden of the West, and Lord of Casterly Rock, requests her presence to swear fealty to the newest ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. She has had every intention of journeying South to do so, but she has no want to. King’s Landing is where her near-perfect life fell apart at the seams and she learned how cruel the real world can be. 

She doesn’t want to see Tyrion again either. Her feelings about him are in turmoil, and she can never sort out what they really are. To go back means to face them all, and she would much rather stay content and ignorant in the North.  
***  
Sansa is wearing her Stark colors and smells of lemons when she pledges Northern fealty to the Queen. Her bannerman wanted her-- wants her-- to declare herself Queen of the North, and cede from the rest of the south. But she is the last Stark; Bran having taken the black, Arya alive but nowhere to be found, and Rickon too wild to even keep inside, much less rule; and Sansa is so tired of war. She is tired of the blood and the battles and the death. So she does the peaceful thing. 

She wants to leave directly after, hide herself away in the North never to come South again, but the Queen commands her presence and the Hand is looking for her. And she does what is asked of her, but avoids Tyrion at all costs. It’s only when he directly requests for her to dine with him, does she meet him face-to-face for the first time in three years.  
***  
It’s over lemon cakes and two too many cups of wine, does she tell him of what happened to her after she escaped from King’s Landing after Joffrey’s Death. Petyr and Harry and all the battles and all the blood-- only once hers-- come to light. 

It’s only when he wipes the tears of her cheeks does she realize she is crying, and when he lays a hand lightly over hers does she realize he is no longer as frightening as he once was.  
***  
After tea, with crumbs from lemon cakes strewn across the table, in the library, Sansa admits she has never seen the dragons before. 

He takes her by the hand and leads her out into the dragon pit. They are huge, monstrous creatures and she dislikes them. But Tyrion loves them, and they seem to like him-- or at least don’t view him as a small snack-- so she lets him pull her closer than the door.

He notices her fear. “My lady, you had direwolves. Certainly they were the stuff of legends.”  
“Yes, but they were neither as large nor did they breathe fire.” She points out, edging away from the pit. 

Tyrion smiles and chuckles at that, and Sansa notices he’s rather lovely when he smiles.  
Her cheeks bloom a soft pink for the rest of the excursion.  
***  
For dessert they eat lemon cakes. 

“You remembered.” Sansa says, a bit mystified, because it’s been such a long time and she never thought she told him she liked lemon cakes so much.  
He watches her carefully as he says, “I never forgot what my wife’s favorite food was.”

She blanches a bit. Neither have ever brought it up, and Sansa still isn’t sure what her feelings are towards him.

“Sansa, we can get an annulment. You are in no way obliged to keep up this sham of a marriage.”

“I know.” She looks up at him and smiles. “But, I’d like to give it a try. We never really got to know one another. Maybe we should start there.”

His expression is equal parts dumbfounded and thrilled.  
***  
There is a lemon tree under the window of her new bedroom. It’s fragrance is heavy in the late spring sunlight, and sitting in full sunlight on the windowseat is making her drowsy.

They aren’t fully living as husband and wife, they are separated by a door that only she has the key to, but they are beginning to have emotional intimacy. Every day, they let each other in just a bit more, and it’s so relieving to have someone else help you shoulder the burden. 

Tyrion opens the already cracked door to her room. “I planted it for you. The lemon tree. I thought if you never came south again, it would at least be a reminder.”

She gets up and kneels in front of him. “Thank you. I love it.” She hugs him gently and presses a kiss against his cheek.  
***  
The lemons on her lemon tree are hard, green lumps when Sansa leaves to go back north. She’s abandoned it for the last few months, to focused on this newly budding relationship with Tyrion. 

They promise to exchange letters, and Sansa laughs-- and often cries-- over anecdotes of Tyrion’s childhood.

It’s when she is out in the godswood, does she realize Winterfell no longer feels like home. 

No she sorely misses something else.

That is when she thinks she may love Tyrion Lannister.

And it terrifies her.  
***  
She sends a letter, requesting the presence of the Hand of the Queen at once. 

She wants to tell him, but she doesn’t know what. Her feelings are still in a whirlwind and she has no idea what love is supposed to feel like. Once she thought she was in love, but in reality it was childish naivety mixed with aesthetic pleasure and dreams. She cares for him and wants him to be happy and gets jealous the thought of him being with someone else. She wants to touch him and kiss him and do… well, more. 

Her cheeks burn at the thought and her lower abdomen twists and burns pleasantly at the thought.

She orders a bath to distract herself. It smells like vanilla and lemons.  
***  
Sansa has every intention of dignity when she sees him again. But when he arrives at the gates of Winterfell, sweaty and travel worn, every thought of regalism fly out of her head. 

Instead she drops to her knees and kisses him right there in front of everyone.

It’s more of a promise than a kiss, a slight brushing of lips that make her tingle everywhere, and the words I love you tumble out of her mouth before she can stop them.

The entire courtyard views her if she has lost her mind, and maybe she has, until Tyrion returns her gentle kiss and takes her hand.

They wear the same idiotic grins.  
***  
The next morning Sansa wakes up the next morning wrapped around her husband. He’s stroking her hair gently.

“Would you like lemon cakes in the solar, my lady?” He asks, once he notices she is awake.

“Very much so,my lord.”

And she pulls him down for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments and reviews are ALWAYS appreciated.  
> Do you have a prompt?  
> If so, leave it here or over at emilianna-pond.tumblr.com


End file.
